The Great Pierpont Morgan by Frederick Lewis; Allen Page A

might of Britain. But now this very fact was about to bring a new turn in his career.
    In 1879 William H. Vanderbilt—son and heir of the terrific old Commodore—came to Pierpont for aid. The Vanderbilts, father and son, had brought together a number of small railroads to form the impressive New York Central system, which reached from New York all the way to Chicago, and of its shares the younger Vanderbilt now owned no less than eighty-seven per cent. He had begun to realize that this virtual one-man ownership, lucrative though it might be, had its embarrassing aspect. Vanderbilt was unpopular with the general public, and knew it. As he told a reporter later, “A public sentiment has been growing up opposed to the control of such a great property by a single man or a single family. It says we rule by might. We certainly have control of this property by right. But no matter, this public feeling exists.” Vanderbilt’s unpopularity was very convenient for rival financiers who wanted to put over deals at his expense; to the public these men could represent themselves as St.Georges battling a dragon. And it was handy too for legislators looking for things which could be taxed without arousing public outcry; they could slap a tax on the New York Central properties and argue that the money would come right out of the bottomless pockets of multimillionaire Vanderbilt, the almost sole owner.
    A stolid man devoid of sensibility, William H. Vanderbilt had no gift for wooing the public. Indeed it was he who, three years later, when a reporter asked him whether a certain unprofitable train should not be run for the sake of the public whether it earned its way or not, replied irritably, with perfect logic but disastrous choice of language, “The public be damned! I am working for my stockholders. If the public want the train, why don’t they support it?” Now, in 1879, he wanted to unload the onus of sole ownership.
    The uneasy Vanderbilt went to consult Morgan because of Morgan’s English connections. He told Morgan that he wanted to sell a considerable part of his interest in the road. But he wanted the sale to be conducted very privately, lest the word go round that Vanderbilt was unloading and that therefore either he or the Central must be in trouble. Could Morgan manage a private and unpublicized sale to English investors?
    Morgan leaped at the chance; and working quietly, disposed of 150,000 shares of New York Central stock directly to overseas purchasers, at $120 per share, with an option to dispose of another 100,000 shares within the following year at the same price. (The total number of shares disposed of represented less than half of Vanderbilt’s interest in the road, but reduced that interest so sharply that after the sale he was able to remark to a reporter, “It can no longer be said that I am the owner of New York Central.”)
    Not until the operation was completed, in November 1879, did any announcement have to be made, so secretly had the negotiations been conducted. When the news broke, the financial-community was amazed. In the words of the Commercial & Financial Chronicle for November 29, 1879, “There has been one topic in Wall Street this week—the great New York Central & Hudson stock sale.”
    It brought about a striking change in the status of Pierpont Morgan. Now, as holder of proxies for the Englishpurchasers, he sat on the New York Central’s board as a wielder of great potential influence. For years past, on his visits to London, he had had to confront perplexed or angry Englishmen who had wanted to know why so many things went wrong with their investments in American securities. Why was America having such hard times? Why was the United States currency so unsound? Why were so many American railroads scandalously mismanaged? Why were men like Gould permitted to plunder right and left the properties in which honest Englishmen had invested? These